Mooreville High

Sebastian Elizarraras

Sunday afternoon was a warm relief
We wanted to hold on stubbornly to that last minute
Instead of living the ones to come
Only seeing the most painful parts of the week ahead
Slamming lockers on a Monday, trying-
To summon up the will to believe that it gets better
But was it really that bad after all?

Summer’s end meant midnight reunions on the track
Still rubber permeating the air in the heat of august
Friday night rumors and tailgate daydreams,
Parties with the rich kids and stargazing in the backseat
Peering over the hedges on the football field,
We popped confetti and shouted “go team!” 
But loved the moment we shared more than them

The one winter snow fell on our little town
Prom in the gym that year was so beautiful,
Dancing lovers nestled under a flakey powder blanket,
Watched as the disco balls made stars of the spotlights
They highlighted the love affair, we traded envy for laughter
Fruit punch sometimes stings or leaves stains
But we drove out in our gray sedans and felt like royalty

We’d hide by heaters at the Barnes Crossing mall,
Ride the carousel til we were chased out by security
If the school staff had been careless, there was a small chance,
We could sneak into the theater and stare up at the light fixtures,
Didn’t worry that much about making it back home
Breakfast at the coffee house, lunch at the diner downtown
Staring up by the bleachers when the evening sky rose

I won’t hold on to what I won’t miss
But I’ll certainly miss skipping service at the Baptist
Fast friends, and young love, the pain of growing up too fast,
Every day we drove by the river singing made it worth it
Worn souls, the cruel cold, friendship lasts until the bracelet breaks
Our hearts can only carry the fire of youth for a little while
So I’ll leave our innocence and beautiful ignorance here on the page, 
So that they may fade more slowly

Enchantment

Enchantment

A kaleidoscope of butterflies beat

Their wings against a cage of ribs

Their wings heavy

Yet heart so light

As it implodes in sheer joy

Spreading into the chest like fireworks

Happiness the sparks

Chest the canvas of the dark sky

-Aisha E.

Original Poem: “In a Few Days”

In a few days
the world stops looking less blue.
Sooner or later
there’s bound to be something new.

In a few days
the clouds above my head will lift.
As eventually as forever
my meaning will sensibly shift.

In a few days
I’ll fall asleep in complete dark.
A night without noise
from the purple and invisible spark.

In a few days
things will get better.
Because a few can mean soon,
or reach as close as possible to never.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

Shel Silverstein, or perhaps more famously known as “The dude who wrote The Giving Tree” has actually written many stories alongside works of poetry; “Where the Sidewalk Ends” is one of those pieces of poetry. 

This collection of poems features works such as “Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too”, “Hug O’War”, “For Sale”, “Sick”, “Me and My Giant” and “Hat”.  These poems are generally short, whimsical, and full of wit.  They are fun to read to kids, to dogs, to parents, to grandparents, or to yourself.  The poems are often satirical.  One such poem is called “The Land of Happy”. 

In this poem Silverstein tells of a place where everyone is always happy, then ends it with saying how plain that would be (Silverstein, 143).  Another is “Forgotten Language” in which Silverstein laments the loss of human connection to nature (Silverstein, 149).  All in all, this is a fun collection of poems for anyone looking for something to read before going to bed or for something to read anytime.

-Ainsley H

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein is available for checkout from the Mission Viejo Library.

Book Review: Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman: 9780451419170 ...

Leaves of Grass is a collection of romantic poems with more than 300 poems. The collection of Leaves of Grass is the representative work of the American poet Walt Whitman and the first collection of poetry with the national style in the history of American literature. It has created a generation of poetry style and has had a great impact on American poetry.

Leaves of Grass also has a major innovation in artistic form, the poet broke the long-standing format of American poetry and created a “free style” poetry form. In terms of the structure of the poem, the poet adopts a large number of forms such as refrain, row, long sentence and parallel structure. Whitman also resorted to the usage of symbols and metaphors. The collection is characterized by colloquialism, with a rich expressive force and eloquent style. The poetry is sincere and fervent. The style is bold and fresh, making one one feel sick after reading it.

Leaves of Grass plays a very important role in the history of American poetry and even in the history of literature. It is a world-renowned masterpiece that ushered in a new era of American national poetry and its influence on even the English language as a whole can be described as revolutionary. Whitman’s collection of leaves of Grass was first published in 1855 with only twelve poems. By the time of his death, the last edition contained nearly four hundred poems. He named his collection Leaves of Grass because they represented the most ordinary Americans at the bottom of our society.

-Coreen C.

Chamber Music by James Joyce

Chamber Music - Kindle edition by James Joyce. Literature & Fiction Kindle  eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Joyce started out as a poet. Chamber Music was his first work. Critics seem to have reached a final conclusion on it, such as the traditionality of the whole poem, traditional meter and rhyme, traditional image structure and so on. The musicality of the poetry is also widely talked about by critics. This was due to Joyce’s musical. According to the poet himself, every poem can be put to music. The style of the poem follows the romantic style of the 19th century, but it is not without sentimentality. There is also the integrity of the content, that is, the evolution of love and the journey of the soul, two threads that go hand in hand, complement each other, and constitute the emotional tone of the whole collection. And the poetry is stylistically very different from Joyce’s novels such as Ulysses. It is not unreasonable to point out that there is only one voice throughout the thirty-six poems.

For in the reader’s ears the hero is always pouring out his heart to his sweetheart, from infatuation, marriage proposals, happy conjunctions, to a change of heart, treachery, and, at last, solitary and drifting away. But we don’t hear the hero’s voice at the beginning, which would be too abrupt and leave the reader wondering if the hero is lyrically barking up the wrong tree. In other words, a stage should be set for the protagonist to perform first. Chamber Music is about the love story and mind journey of the hero, mainly told by his voice. In other words, the emotional experience between the male protagonist and the heroine is presented to the reader through the consciousness of the hero, that is, the dramatic expression of the emotional experience between them.

Broken Hearted

Broken Hearted

T’was impeccable, yet warped,

Repetitive, yet newfangled regularly.

Memories’ sadness is in presence,

Though, only evoked when the spirit wishes.

‘Tis a fight,

Where “moving on” is defined often,

“Attachment” is, too.

Seated alone, pondering,

How can this be overcome?

Knowledge from the wise is even proven insufficient.

Man’s best companion can’t even seek a smile,

Nor can nature’s sweetest creations.

How can this be overcome?

They say denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance,

None apply.
This feeling is unutterable,

One I swear is mine and mine only.

How can this be overcome?

Like a Satan in one’s path,

Only the stupid’s willpower could see hope.

Where the only solution is to advance,

Or seize agonizing consequences.

Rifle in hand,

Willpower in the other.

Ambition, clout, and courage tattooed on one’s shoulder,

The great battle begins.

Pushing away thoughts,

Urges set aside.

No peeking,

No asking,

No quitting.

It’s done!

Finally, ready to move on,

Acceptance becomes clear.

Pride falls,

Ache does, too.

I’ve done it,

Finally, moved on.

-Izzy G., 8th Grade

 

Anxiety

Suddenly, your mouth drops from a smile, and your eyebrows crinkle.

You take a sharp breath,

There’s nowhere near enough air in the world to satisfy you.

Fingernails dig into your tender skin,

Clenching your hands, as if you’re holding on for dear life.

So many sudden negative feelings…

Your muscles begin to freeze up, and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Want to get up, but can’t.

Want to cry for help, but can’t.

Want to escape from this hell, but can’t.

Beginning to regain a little bit of consciousness, your hand reaches over for your phone to text a friend.

“You can’t do that. You just want attention.”

A frown builds, and there’s this sudden burst of anger within you.

“I can’t do this anymore”

Warm tears finally stream down.

You’re on the floor, hugging at a pillow, sobbing.

“I’m crazy.”

Picking up your phone again, you begin to scroll through social media.

Smiles.

Friends.

Fun.

All of their ‘happiness builds’ up and becomes your own rage.

“Why can’t I be like that?”

“You don’t deserve anything.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are.”

“You’re a fake.”

“Nobody likes you.”

“i know…”

Sobbing.

Screaming.

Breaking things.

And then,

As randomly as it started,

You feel fine.

“it’s over…

-Izzy G., 7th Grade

To My Poisoned Rose

A beautiful, yet insane mind you had,

To me my rose, you never would revel.

The wind would blow, but you were mad,

You would show your thorns and hide your petals.

Someone tried to yank you from your strong roots,

But your fierce thorns had gotten in the way,

The person’s hand had bled, while you would hoot,

Why would something as beautiful as you enjoy others pain?

Oh, but one winter, you died and withered!

No blood was shed, only a heart and soul.

I embraced you, but you struck a blizzard,

I bled, you laughed, screamed, “Peasant!” with control,

I loved you so, but you couldn’t love anyone,

I grabbed a knife and stabbed myself, you won.

-Kimi M.

Stress to Service

Stress:

Google says it’s “a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances”

According to psychology, it’s “uncomfortable emotional experience accompanied by predictable biochemical, physiological and behavioral changes”

And students agree stress is “AP exams, finals, CIF games and oh, those two projects I won’t be starting until the night before”

In the wee hours of the night, students strive to obtain the intense desire for success

And the wee hours of the night cook the perfect atmosphere for boiling stress.

A child, a baby: a mere fifteen, sixteen, seventeen year old

Persisting, working, sweating like a mule until their transcript shows all gold.

Who can expect a student to sleep eight hours a night but juggle five hours of work?

The expectations, I’d say, are more than enough to irk.

Every year the college acceptance rates drastically drop

And little boys and girls suddenly forget what it means to take a break

and just stop.

Tell me why students who sacrifice their health and sleep

Are still expected to be a lively teen and not weep.

Convince me that students are making the right decisions

In cheating on tests, just to get the “A” and fulfill their college envisions.

Persuade me that the education system is treating their students right

and brainwashing us to believe that a score of 5 is what makes us bright.

Let’s start to encourage using our passion and our voices

To stand up and help society make the right choices.

To be politicized and involved while we’re youthful, proud, and loud.

Time is running out, we can’t wait around.

Third world countries await our kindness, shelters demand our service, feminists deserve our support.

In all due respect, that is more important and influential than a chemistry lab report.

-Jessica T.